


A World Never Imagined

by system_writer_of_five



Category: 2P Hetalia - Fandom, Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Angels, Angeltalia, Angst, Demons, Demontalia, Devil and Angel universes, Devils, Deviltalia, F/F, F/M, Fluff, M/M, Mpreg, Multi, Plot twists and headcanons, Rape later on, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Smut, Suicide, Tags will be added on as this is still a work in process, Written based off of an RP
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-18
Updated: 2015-10-24
Packaged: 2018-04-09 22:07:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 9
Words: 8,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4365962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/system_writer_of_five/pseuds/system_writer_of_five
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The life of an immortal, through the eyes of the 'evil' personifications of England, France, America and Canada, is not what a simple mortal might believe it to be. Suffering, pain, despair and death come as often as happiness, laughter, joy and merrymaking. Join them, and many others, as they go on their adventure through life as family, friends, enemies, lovers and soldiers of war. *The main focus will be upon America and will /not/ be a slice of life story*</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Axis Arc, Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is based off of a year plus long roleplay, so some details may not make sense at first as I am going off of what I remember and from my single perspective. I will try my hardest though! 
> 
> This story will have rape, mpreg, self-harm, suicide (kind of) and smut (though it may be glossed over somewhat). I will attempt to section off the more graphic scenes so you are able to skip them, but please be aware that they /will/ happen.
> 
> If you are ready to handle all of this and read what has been my life for the better part of a year, please continue....

If one was mortal, they might believe that being immortal would be a dream come true. If a mortal was to speak to Allen at that moment, they would see that an immortal life does not bar one from suffering. 

“I might not have the prettiest smile….or the biggest muscles….or the warmest heart….or anything.” 

Allen kicked a rock on the concrete with a sigh. His hands were stuffed inside of his jeans as he looked upon the ground, whispering to himself. 

“Whatever. I have nothing.” 

Just as he was about to kick the rock again, Allen felt a light tug upon his dark brown jacket. 

“What seems to be the matter, Poppet?” 

‘Am I near their house?’ He didn’t think he had walked that far.

Allen shrugged his arm out of Oliver’s grip.

“Nothing’s wrong, Oliver.”

This made Oliver frown and wrap an arm around Allen’s shoulders. When Allen looked up a moment later, a smile was back on his face. 

“Come now! Francois and Matt are both at my house, sick as dogs! Why don’t we go and make them some cupcakes to cheer them up? ” 

The thought of helping his family, even if it was most likely only going to help Oliver, made Allen’s bad mood deteriorate slightly as he was practically dragged off to the British man’s house.

Allen and Mat had both been raised by Oliver and Francois, though the brothers had always spent more time with Oliver than Francois. The French man had taken a liking to his young, Canadian son almost immediately, but this never seemed to reach Allen in the same way. This led to Mat receiving more attention as he had both of their parents caring for him. Mat always made a point to include Allen and protect him from harm to make up for this though. 

As Oliver opened the door, birds cheeping and wind chimes spinning, he only had a split second the shout, "Duck!" before practically dragging Allen to the floor with him. Immediately after, what looked to be a teapot soared over their heads and smashed on the pavement, ruining the perfect serenity of the morning.

"Francois Bonnefoy! That better not have been my bone china!"

As Oliver stalked indoors, clutching Allen's arm to keep him securely by his side, a grumbling Frenchman passed them with an unlit cigarette in his mouth. Oliver nearly sighed.

"No smoking, Franny! You're supposed to be getting better, and smoking only makes things worse, now doesn't it?"

A grunt and a cigarette being flung in their direction was the only response they got, and Oliver was soon smiling brightly again.

"Good! No drinking either, you know I hate the stuff."

As Francois made his way back to the couch he was lying on, face still flushed with fever and eyes slightly glazed, Oliver turned back to Allen; seeing the faraway look in his eyes and hoping he wasn't getting sick too.

“Dear?”

Allen shook himself at the sound of Oliver’s voice, not having noticed they were already in the living room. Francois lay on the couch, eyes slightly glazed and face flushed with fever. Mat could easily be heard sneezing upstairs.

‘Geez! How bad is this?’ 

Oliver looked between the two men, smile starting to strain his face. With all of the running around he had to do to watch the sick men, he had completely forgotten his pills over the last two days. It was starting to wear his mind very thin. Seeing Allen so upset and withdrawn didn’t help matters either.

“Here to help?” 

Francois’ voice sounded rough. Not that it didn’t usually sound rough; years of smoking and drinking had warped the French man’s voice into something that resembled a stereotypical pirate or cowboy. 

‘Not that he is either of those things anymore. It just sounds creepily deep like them.’

“If I can, yeah” was Allen’s short answer. A crash from the threshold between the kitchen and the living room caught both men’s attentions as they looked over to see Oliver bending over to grab at something. 

“….sick…HAHA!...can’t…not…anymore….”

Allen was only able to catch every word or so, but the crazed laugh in the middle alerted him to what was going on. In the days before Oliver’s medicine was available, Allen and Mat had been taught to run in the opposite direction when they heard their ‘Daddy’ acting like this. Oliver off of his medicine was capable of anything, irregardless of who his target was or where they were at the moment. He had been sent away to an asylum many times by Francois for this very reason. Oliver always came back feeling regret and depressed for what he had done. 

‘The asylum never really helped him though. His strength and unwillingness to hurt us is what usually saved our lives.’

“Oliver-“

Allen raised his hands to show he meant no harm as he slowly stood up, Oliver’s eyes now trained on him. 

“Oliver, you need to take your medicine-“ 

Francois’ voice had spoken up, the man now sitting up slowly. 

“Heeeeey!” 

A whine came from the stairway, telling Allen just how sick Mat was in order for his voice to sound so nasally and wheezed. The Canadian froze on the stairs when he took in the scene though. Mat coming onto the scene seemed to fuel Francois’ sick body up from the couch and onto his feet. 

“Oliver-!” 

This seemed to finally make the British man snap as he launched himself at his lover. 

“Mat, stay upstairs!” Allen called out worriedly, rushing quickly into the kitchen as Francois tried to defend himself. 

‘Please don’t tell me they moved it!’ In cases such as this, a shot form of the medication had been developed that would equal the amount of one dosage if injected into the neck of the patient. Oliver always made sure to have at least two on hand in case he snapped.

‘There!’ 

Allen snatched it up quickly, tearing away the plastic sheath on the metallic end and rushed back into the other room to look for an opening. Francois spotted the edge of Allen’s shoes in the corner of his eye. 

‘1…2…3!’ 

The French man allowed himself to be flipped onto his back once again while Oliver seemed to be screaming nonsense above him.

“-take me!” 

Allen froze when a floorboard shifted behind the fighting pair, making Oliver’s already heightened paranoia spike. 

“No!” 

A hand whipped out and threw Allen down against the table. Pain ran down the side of his head, but he didn’t have time to worry about the feeling of liquid seeping from the side of his head.

‘Just stay still!’ 

Allen, now annoyed, launched himself at Oliver and pinned him down as he finally stabbed the needle into his neck. 

“Calm. Down.” 

Everyone seemed to breathe a collective sigh of relief as Oliver’s swirling pink eyes settled back down into their normal blue.

“W-What-?” Allen climbed off of Oliver, dropping the needle and heading for the stairway. Francois wrapped his arms around his lover, hushing him and insisting that none of this was his fault. This never stopped Oliver from blaming himself though. 

‘I could have killed them! How can they stand living with a monster like me?! If Allen wasn’t here- Francois and Mat are sick!’ 

Oliver clung onto his lover, taking comfort from his hold. He only allowed himself to do this for a moment though as his worry for his family won over his guilt. He sniffled a few more times before shaking his head.

“You need your rest! I-I’ll make everyone some cupcakes and tea! Yes, that should work!” 

Knowing better than to protest, Francois allowed himself to be helped into bed.

Allen was doing something similar with Mat upstairs. 

The Canadian had tried coming down to ask for something to drink, but Allen insisted he lie down.

“Seriously, Mat. You look like sh*t.”

Cursing was a no-no around Oliver, so the brothers made sure to watch their mouths around him. 

“Blame Matthew.” 

When one nation got sick, it tended to affect their counterpart in much the same way. Allen winced sympathetically, having been on the wrong end of Alfred’s stomach aches and flu symptoms too many times to count. He even handed his brother a tissue when he looked about to sneeze he felt that bad.

“Good thing is that you’ll be better soon enough. You know how Francis and Matthew get. Spend too long in the cold hanging out and they both get a cold for a few days.” Mat grumbled something along the lines of “it’s not you suffering” before laying down in bed. 

If only everything could have stayed so normal…


	2. Axis Arc: Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From here on in, my lovely roleplay partner will be helping out with certain scenes and with writing from her character's point of view. 
> 
> I would also like to apologize for the shortness of this chapter, but I had to split it in two in order for it to not be super, super long!

After an awkward moment of silence, Allen stood up once again and stretched his arms up above his head. His fingers brushed against his wound, reminding him of what exactly was making him feel so tired and out of it.

“I’m going to head to the bathroom.”

Mat groaned in response, rolling over in an attempt to get some rest. Allen rolled his eyes and headed off down the hallway. 

‘You stupid idiot. You stressed Oliver out and look what happened.’ 

Depressed thinking hit him hard as he closed the door to the bathroom, leaning his head against the door for a moment. 

‘Papa could have been killed!’ 

Papa and Daddy. No matter how many centuries went passed, Allen always thought of them as his parents. He never called Francois anything other than Papa when speaking to him or speaking to his family in regards to the man. Mat did that sometimes, but he called Oliver ‘Dad’ more often. 

Allen stumbled over to the sink and gripped the sides of the marble counter, tears blurring his vision. 

‘I-‘ 

A crash came from downstairs and, for a moment, Allen thought that Oliver had somehow snapped again. That was next to impossible on his medication though.

Footsteps.

‘Can’t be Mat. He’s practically dead to the world. Oliver maybe? Or maybe Papa trying to get me to help with something?’

They stopped right before the bathroom door. Just as Allen was about to call out, the door was kicked in and the American’s blood ran cold.

“Hello, Allen!”

It had all happened so fast; Oliver barely had time to register the smash of the door swinging open before he was shoved to the ground. They had found them. Luciano, Lutz and Kuro had been dead set on ridding the world of his family and their current allies for years. The Axis had finally tracked down their little family, and were going to make sure they didn't lose them again. Of course, Oliver could have picked a more secretive location to hide, but honestly he didn't expect the Italian-lead group to be that efficient in searching.

"Unhand me!" Oliver's voice sounded terribly small with everything going on, yet surprisingly Luciano seemed to be leading everything quite quietly. Or at least, when Oliver opened his mouth to scream for Allen to run away, a rag was roughly shoved into it - setting off his gag reflex and making him choke on his own words. 

What happened next was a little hazy, as when a boot came down on him, it knocked a great deal of sense out of his smaller body. Yet Oliver recognized the growled French threats, as well as the hum of a car engine and soon the enraged howling of an ensnared Canadian. It reassured Oliver that Francois and Mat seemed relatively okay, though both sounded a little worried at the British man's unresponsive behavior. Luckily for them, Oliver blacked out before hearing Allen shrieking bloody murder, or he'd probably have a heart attack from all the horrid swearing!

Allen’s first reaction was to completely ignore the shouts from his family, knowing he had to focus if he wanted to have any hope of them escaping this alive.  
Luciano seemed to almost gain strength at the sounds of the chaos he was creating because when he threw himself at Allen a second later, the American struggled to throw him off. 

“Get the f*ck off of me!” 

A tanned fist came down and smashed his nose. Allen once again ignored this, but used the Italian’s position against him and kicked him off hard enough to hear him hit the wall. 

Of course, Allen didn’t see this as he bolted out of the room and down the hallway. His gaze flicked to Mat’s empty room just long enough to see that the Canadian was gone before he ran down the stairs.

Lutz and Kuro were always silent during these altercations, but Allen never had the faintest clue why. They were both intelligent and could hold conversation fairly well, though it seemed to be the opposite whenever they attacked their family. 

“F*ck! Mat?! Francois?! Oliver?!” 

Allen heard chuckling from the stairwell belonging to his Italian opponent.

‘D*mn it! I need a weapon!’ 

His bat was at his house and Mat’s hockey stick was upstairs.

Allen threw his arms up reflexively when Lutz’s whip aimed at him, but ducked just as fast. Leaving the leather to crack in the air where his chest had just been, Allen bolted for the kitchen.

“Don’t just stand there!” 

Luciano’s irritated command spurred Allen to yank open the utensil drawer and pull out the largest knife he could find.

‘Yes! Now I-!’

The sharp feeling of metal rested against his throat.

“Did you really think you could beat us?”

The mocking whisper was the last thing he would hear before a cloth was shoved over his face and the world went black.


	3. Axis Arc: Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: torture ahead!

Waking up in a dingy, chilly room with a blinding headache was bad enough. 

Waking up in absolute darkness was worse, and it sent Oliver's heart racing the moment his beryl-blue eyes fluttered open.

"H-hello?"

No answer, but Oliver could feel someone in the... Room? Was he even in a room? He couldn't see to tell.

"Is anyone there?"

Ah, an answer this time, no matter how abrupt the sharp 'shh!' was. The Brit was having a hard time finding his bearings in the dark, feeling very discombobulated as he couldn't see what he was doing. Yet years of living alone without electricity in the old day had given him good hearing, so when soft groaning was heard, it didn't go unnoticed.

"A-Allen? Mat? Are you there?" Another groan, then a hiss of pain and a muttered swear word. Only Mat would swear when he knew Oliver was listening, so Allen must still be too out-of-it to react.

"Stupid f*cking Axis." Another shushing from whoever was in the room with them, yet Oliver didn't take any notice. 

"Mat! Oh gosh, I'm so happy you're okay! Where are you? Where are /we/? How are we going t-!"

Footsteps.

Oliver froze, eyes straining in the darkness to see whoever - or whatever - was making such heavy footfalls. The moment a light suddenly came on (a flickering bulb which barely illuminated the room) the Brit felt himself press again the wall. No wait, not a wall. Bars. Cell bars.

"Well, well, well. Look who we have here," Luciano sneered, a smirk on his face and a spark in his eyes. "The great, wonderful, /powerful/ Allies! It took us an awful long time to track you all down, but we did it, and we did it in style. My brother would be proud!" The Italian snickered, Lutz grinning and chuckling behind him as Kuro stayed as emotionless as always.

Oliver could now see that the two nations in the cell with him were Nikolai and Xiao, the Russian standing and leaning against the only solid wall, and the Chinese nation busy sending Kuro death-glares. Much to Oliver's dismay, the other three men were in a separate cell, and he could clearly see that Mat was helping a bleeding Allen sit up, while Francois remained drumming his fingers against the bars of the cell. Somehow, he still looked rather bored. Yet Luciano's next actions changed that completely.

"What is it you want from us, hooy morzhovy?" Nikolai asked, accented voice generally rather cold. Oliver was glad he didn't understand the insult at the end of the question. Luciano didn't either, or maybe he just didn't react to it as he answered.

"We want information. And then we want to beat the living crap out of you, whether we get the information or not. It is your choice to either give us what we want and stay alive longer, or stay silent and die."

Of course the Allies weren't willing to give up any information, yet the Axis seemed just as patient to sit in the only chairs and watch their prisoners whisper among themselves. Nikolai had forcibly dragged Oliver to his feet and over to the far side nearest the other cell, so the six of them could group around it and speak a bit more privately. Though overall, with some minor arguing, they decided that they weren't going to give up anything, and that Luciano could give hurting them his best shot. Little did they know that he would gladly try.

Allen blinked a few times when he could finally see the room in focus, unable to believe they had honestly been captured.

‘We can’t be too far away though… I know I wasn’t out for that long!’ 

He looked over to his side, nearly flinching when he saw how high strung Francois seemed to be in the presence of their current enemies. Current being the operative word, as alliances changed all of the time. This was different though. These three seemed to just plain have it out for their small family, thus dragging whomever their current allies were into whatever argument they wanted to have. 

"Fine," the Italian answered, when Mat rudely told them to go shove their offer where the sun doesn't shine. "But you will pay the consequences. Starting with..."

Luciano's eyes raked over the group of nations before him, until a feral grin grew on his tanned face and he nodded at Lutz. "Him."

Protests from Allen (“Take me, you f*cker!”), threats from Francois and growls from Mat filled Oliver's head as strong, calloused hands grabbed him by the collar of his smart shirt - near on choking him. Clumsy yet powerful fingers dragged Oliver from the cell, practically ripping the cerulean bow tie from his body as he was dumped into an uncomfortable chair. Oliver barely registered what was happening before thick rope coiled around his pink-splashed frame, binding his hands to the arms of the chair and his ankles to the legs. 

"Wh-what? No! No!"

There was the reaction Luciano was hoping to see; the panic alighting in those wide, watery eyes and fear radiating from every freckle on his target's body. The background noise from the other prisoners was a nice touch too.

Allen felt like he was going to be sick, though he knew it was also in part from his injury.

Francois looked no better and, if he wasn’t sick, would have probably been kicking the bars as hard as he was able. 

Once Oliver was appropriately attached to the chair, which in turn was nailed to the floor, Luciano took his place before him. "Now, I'll give you one final chance to give us the information we need."

Oliver shuddered, though his eyes didn't leave Luciano as he screwed up his courage and shook his head. Usually he'd be fine with this sort of thing, as after all, it was no secret what his hobby used to be. Yet Luciano knew his weaknesses and knew how to really get to him, and that was what terrified him. "No. You can go choke on a cactus."

Luciano simply grinned wider, and nodded, saying, "Good, good. That was what I was hoping. You know, I'm really going to enjoy this. It's not every day I get to beat a former empire to a pulp, though after all, you're not much of an empire nowadays, are you? Not since... Well, you know."

Oliver froze up, opening his mouth to retort that it was none of his business, yet all that came out was a sudden gasp of pain, as someone (probably Kuro as he had such sure hands) decided it would be a good idea to twist the index finger of his left hand around.


	4. Axis Arc: Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mild torture and blood in this chapter

"They'll be more, Kirkland," Luciano murmured, eyes trained on Oliver's pale face as the shouts of the other nations began to fade. Oliver didn't dare look at them, knowing it would hurt more.

"Kuro."

Another twist and an effective snap, making Oliver suck in a hissing breath.

"Just talk, Brit. Just. Talk."

Snap. Snap. Two more fingers, and Oliver was sure it looked horrendous. But he daren't look.

"You're good at talking, aren't you Oliver?" After a whole hand of broken fingers, Luciano held up a hand to stop Kuro from going further, and the Italian's tone changed into something else. Something softer. 

"You talk about anything and everything. You enjoy bragging, gossiping, lying. You find it fun to chatter on and on about your old empire. But you don't like it when someone else mentions it. That's a little unfair, hmm?"

Oliver, now shaking slightly, looked up at Luciano and curled his lip.

"Wh-what were you b-ba-back then, huh? A b-baby under the w-w-wing of your g-grandpa!"

In the cells, Mat whispered an incredibly rude word under his breath, as he clearly recognized the borderline-crazed tone Oliver had adopted. Combined with the twitching, Mat wasn't looking forward to the following events.

“He’ll be alright.” Allen whispered encouragingly, though even he was grabbing onto Mat’s arm as if he could protect him from the sight as he did so many times when they were children.

Luciano shrugged. "Maybe, but at least I could keep those I had with me. Unlike you."

A quick movement of Luciano's hand and Oliver's throat was being held between his fingers, the Brit gasping like a fish out of water. "Let's talk more about your chatterbox attitude, hmm? You couldn't resist bragging that you owned the 'New World', just like you couldn't just tell that little boy that he should be quiet and go to bed when he asked you what the definition of a certain two-syllable word meant." Luciano released Oliver, the Brit slumping in his seat, breathing heavily.

Allen had to be physically restrained by the weakened Francois at the mention of his old title. He didn’t mind it when his parents called him as such as they usually used it in storytelling and memory recall, but Luciano almost used it as an insult. And to even mention that day-! Luciano was treading into dangerous territory…. “Let go of me!” He hissed in annoyance, all pain forgotten. Francois shot him a glare, making him flinch and quiet down. ‘When Oliver is safe, the Italian is dead!’

Luciano began to circle the ensnared Brit, speaking to him in a deadly low voice. From the cells, they couldn't make out any of the soft words, though Oliver's reactions made them clear. Nikolai wasn't paying much attention, too busy looking for a way out while trying to act like he wasn't looking for a way out. Though he'd sort of already found his key out of there, quite literally. Lutz was known to be clumsy and not prone to thinking his plans through. So when he reached in to grab out Oliver, it had been easy for Nikolai to reach into the belt and grab out a ring of keys. Now he had to just find a time to open the cell door without being caught. A sudden shout from Oliver distracted the Russian from his train of thought, and he peered over at the Brit to see him practically screaming at Luciano. Though it was hard to make out the words, as Oliver didn't seem to be making much sense.

Luciano wasn't reacting much, until Oliver straightened himself out as much as he could and promptly spat on his shoes.

There was a moment of silence. Of absolute and uninterrupted stillness. Allen felt dizzy with how choking the atmosphere had become. Yet it was shattered when - quick as lightening - Luciano's fist connected to Oliver's face, a painfully loud crack echoing around the room. The target's howl of agony didn't make it any better, but what was worse was the second hit. It cut off Oliver's screams until he was just gurgling, forced to slump down or become subject to choking on his blood.

"Those were Louis Vuitton," was the only thing Luciano said, more of a hiss, before he whipped around and began to stalk out the room, waving for his allies to do what they wished to Oliver.

The Italian paused at the base of the stairs out of the basement they were all in, and as an afterthought called back, "Make sure he dies slowly, and make sure his 'family' watch. I'm sure they'd thank me for silencing his pointless chatter. Other than that, do what you want." With that, Luciano strode away, his boots clicking on the stairs.

Luciano had been the main threat to the allies as he was the most calculating and seemed to be in charge. The problem with the remaining two though was that they were easier to trigger into violence. Allen nearly wept with relief when he saw the tell-tale glint of metal in Nikolai’s hands. “Nikolai has the keys.” He whispered quietly, mind running a mile a minute. The three of them weren’t in the best shape, but they would buck up for Oliver. 

“Mat, Papa, I’m going to bring those idiots over here. You be ready to either smash their faces in or grab Oliver. Whatever you can find an opening for. Ready?”

If someone were to ask Allen how they had managed to get out of the cells, he would have to honestly say he didn’t know. The adrenaline, fear and anxiety of the situation had blurred his memory to the point he had to think as to why Oliver was covered with blood. 

Lutz and Kuro lie unconscious on the floor. Mat, who looked unsteady on his feet, had used the Japanese man’s sword to cut Oliver loose and eased him slowly to his feet between himself and Francois. Nikolai and Xiao were going to stay behind to interrogate the unconscious men.

Allen led his beat up family out the same way Luciano had left. Every shadow, every creak, as they made their way down a hallway that led to the supposed exit made Allen only tense up more. 

When he felt the snap of a tripwire, he was hardly surprised. 

*Blood warning*

BANG!

Allen dropped to the floor in pain, biting his lip tightly to hold in his cries of pain. Luciano, the sadistic man he was, hadn’t wanted to leave the men without a parting gift. A tripwire activated shot gun had been set up for the next person to leave after him. Blood stained the floor, his fingers, his clothes, it almost seemed to never end. 

*Warning end*

When Allen saw Mat about to drop Oliver’s arm to rush over though, he threw a hand up. 

“No! I’m fine. Keep your hold on him. I’ve dealt with worse.” 

Getting up was the hardest part, the pain nearly blinding him, but soon the four of them stumbled out into the sunlight. 

‘Thank g-d…’

They were about four blocks away from their house in one of the ‘for lease’ shops off of a side road. 

“Come on.”


	5. Axis Arc: Chapter 5

When Oliver jerked awake, eyes flying open and mouth forming a silent scream of pain, he found the world dark, so obviously began to panic. Though once the Brit established that he wasn't blind and it was simply very early in the morning, he calmed down again. Well, as much as one could calm down upon knowing that a group of very deadly nations were chasing after you and wanted your head on a stake. Though Oliver preferred to keep positive, so shook this thought away in favor of attempting to sit up.

He found that most of his bones had healed overnight, thanks to increased nation healing speed, but a few ribs still ached when he breathed, and he swore his nose was never going to be perfectly straight again. It was already slightly wonky from when Allen had hit him after declaring independen- happy thoughts, Oliver!

Sitting up, Oliver sighed and peeked over at the clock on the far wall, wincing at the incredibly early time.

'I may as well go take my pills for the day. Better early than late...'

Acting upon that thought (or trying to), Oliver steeled himself and began to push himself up to his feet, hissing in pain as his unsteady feet touched the carpeted floor. He was glad the room was empty of other people. He didn't want anyone to see him in such a state. Oliver was sure his hair was disgraceful and his makeup covering his freckles had all rubbed off. It would be a disaster to be seen like this! 

Oliver sighed at the thought as he tried to walk to the kitchen, ignoring the sharp pain running through his left leg at every step. It probably just hadn't healed properly - oh well.

Soon Oliver was standing in the now-illuminated kitchen, rummaging around in the medicine cupboard for his little pot of red pills. It was peculiar that they were a bright crimson color, but Oliver never questioned it. Why bother if they worked nonetheless?

Allen awoke a moment later with a small moan of pain.

'Why does everything hurt?'

Last night, heck the whole day, was a massive blur. Putting a hand to his head brought back some memories though.

'Right. I was hurt and shot. Oliver- Oliver!'

He looked over at the other couch and became panicked when he didn't see the injured nation. The bullet was still in his leg, so it had yet to heal, but his head hurt less than the day before. He stumbled up to his feet with a hiss of pain. 

'The kitchen.' Of course that's where the tea-loving British man would be. 

"Morning." Allen said, using the wall for balance as he came over to the man. "How do you feel?"

Oliver jumped, turning around quickly with the pills clutched in one hand, though he visibly relaxed upon seeing that it was only Allen. 

"You startled me," Oliver murmured, then shook his head and smiled wryly. "Worse than I look, I can bet." 

A small laugh left the Brit's bruised mouth, and he winced as he began to trundle over to the sink to run himself a glass of water. 

"You shouldn't be up yet. You need your strength for our escape plan, hmm? That is, if we've even gathered an escape plan yet... Whose house are we in? I recognize the basic layout, but it's too dark to see much else." 

Allen thought on that as well, not having paid much attention when they were escaping. 

"I think it's Mat's place? Maybe?" He shrugged his shoulders again. "And I'm fine. Just a few injuries here and there, that’s all." 

Even though his injuries were still unhealed. There was no way he was going to bring up his minor injuries though when Oliver had nearly been beaten to death the day before. He had done enough complaining in his life while the man before him sacrificed his own well-being to keep them safe.

"I have handled worse. It's not that big of a deal." 

He limped over to stand across from Oliver. Walking was getting easier and easier the longer he stood, but he suspected this was because his leg was growing numb from lack of blood flow rather than healing. 

"Mat and Francois are asleep upstairs. Why don't you go lie down and I'll make us some breakfast?"

Oliver shook his head with a smile, flapping a hand. 

"I can do it. You go back to bed. You need more rest than me."

Oliver wouldn't admit that he just liked having both 'his boys' under the same roof again. Now he could take care of them like he used to!

"How about pancakes? Yes... They sound good. Just like the ones I used to make, hmm? Pancakes."

Oliver spoke half to Allen and half to himself as he limped across the kitchen, nearly forgetting about the open pot of pills in his hand.

"Oliver." 

Allen's voice was strained, bordering on annoyed, as he limped forwards. 

"I can handle breakfast for once. Seriously. You nearly died yesterday and you should relax for a day."

This was his chance to repay Oliver for the past. 

'He really does look terrible though....'

Oliver fixed Allen with a look - one with raised bushy-brows and a tight mouth. "I'm fine," he articulated, stressing the second word to hopefully get his point across.

"I'm the United Kingdom, former British Empire. I can handle a little fight!"

Oliver 'hmmph'ed and turned back around, pills clicking together in their pot as he moved. Where did Mat keep his mugs?

"And anyway, it's not every day that I get to cook for my little boys again! Now, be a good lad and get me out the eggs."

Now thoroughly annoyed, Allen grabbed up the eggs and placed them down on the counter.

How long would it be until Oliver treated them like the adults they were?!

“You know,” He couldn’t help but snap, “your ‘little boys’ saved your life yesterday. The least you could do is treat us with some respect!”

Oliver just hummed and popped a frying pan on the stove, surprised he could even find one. Yet the sudden tenseness to his shoulders showed how uncomfortable he was with this conversation.

"I do treat you with respect," Oliver replied easily, placing the pill pot down on the counter so he could reach up and grab out a mixing bowl.  
"I'm grateful for your help yesterday, but I would have been fine regardless! Lutz barely smacked me with that whip, and Kuro only got my fingers and back."

Well that was a blatant lie. Lutz had left welts over Oliver's chest like mountains and Kuro had all but wrecked his back.

"Now go sit down like a good boy and wait for your pancakes."

'Good boy.' 

The words cut into Allen's chest in a way he didn't think still possible. 

Here he was, worried sick over Oliver and how injured he still seemed, but he was being brushed aside like a child!

He barely noticed when Oliver set the bowl down on the counter and grabbed up his pill pot again. If he had, maybe he would have not done what he did next. 

"Stop treating me like a child and just look at me!" 

Allen's scream echoed in the empty kitchen for a split second. His hands had thrown themselves out and gripped Oliver tightly by his upper arms, shaking him slightly.

Startled as he was, Oliver grip on the open pill pot was loose, so it was no surprise the pot flew from his hand and landed on the floor - spilling red-tinged medication everywhere.

Oliver stared up at Allen in slight fear of the angry man, yet soon he found his voice, as he always did.

"I'm treating you like a child," he started, in a harsh whisper. "Because you're acting like one."

In a rough movement, Oliver ripped his arms from Allen's hold, feeling himself begin to grow angry.

"You're being irrational. You're being childish!"

The Brit, shaking slightly, felt his eyes fill with sudden tears.

"Why won't you let me take care of you this one last time?!"

The yelling was heard from upstairs, waking Francois from his sleep. 

'Oliver?'

He yawned as he slowly walked downstairs. The man felt better than yesterday, but he was still a little dizzy. 

"Get out!" 

Francois nearly stumbled when Allen came limping out of the room much faster than someone with a bullet lodged in his leg should have. 

The sound of the fromt door slamming shook Francois enough to go into the kitchen to hug Oliver.

Oliver only stopped shaking when Francois' familiar arms wrapped around him - a familiar chest being there to bury his head into when he crumpled to the floor.

"I-I-It's not fair!" He cried, sobs bubbling up his chest already as he scrabbled for a handhold.

"It's n-never fa-air!"


	6. Axis Arc: Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mild blood ahead

Rain pattered down against the windowpanes, almost in time to Oliver's frantic sweeping.

'They can't see! They can't!'

Glass piled in the dustpan as Oliver tried to brush it all together. The nervous Brit had been carrying a vase of flowers to the table when he'd thought he'd heard someone knocking on the door. Not thinking anything through, he'd just dropped the glass base where he'd been standing and had rushed to the door, yanking it open and running outside.

No Allen was there waiting for him to hug. It was merely his imagination, and with wet hair he trudged back inside.

Francois grew increasingly worried throughout the day as he watched Oliver from his spot on the couch.

‘Why did Allen have to run off like that?’

Oliver was unstable on a good day as it was.

He made sure to stay out of the British man’s way and handled the ailing Mat upstairs alone. They were both doing better, but not at 100%.

\---

Allen finally knocked on the door sometime after sunset. 

He had been terrified to even approach the house for fear of getting yelled at or kicked out again, but he wanted to at least try to apologize for what he did.

Obviously, after sunset Oliver was in his pajamas, liking to keep to his mental schedule. Yet he couldn’t bring himself to go to bed, not yet. Not even with Francois waiting for him with open arms and a rare, loving smile. Francois really was lovely. 

Sitting by the half boarded-up window of Mat’s living room, Oliver took a slow sip of his tea, letting the piping hot liquid slide down his throat, which still ached from the torture session.

That was when he heard the knock. Though he didn’t react as violently as before, just calmly standing up–with only a small wince–and placing his tea on the coffee table before shuffling to the door.

His thin pajamas and fluffy bunny slippers didn’t provide much protection from the rain, though he didn’t let it bother him as he leapt at the man hiding in the shadows.

“Dad, I-!”

Oliver just hugged him tighter, mumbling, “I-I thought you’d never come back…”

Allen nearly melted into Oliver’s hold. It was so warm…or was it him? He had been out in the rain the entire day with two serious injuries. It was very likely he had caught something. 

“Of course I would.” Allen whispered, voice hoarse from crying all day. He shivered badly in Oliver’s arms until Francois rushed over with a thick towel. 

“Thanks.”

Oliver was thankful for the towel, making his gratitude obvious by kissing Francois’ cheek once the towel was securely wrapped around both him and Allen. Francois flushed slightly at the affection and moved back enough to give them some space.

The British man didn’t leave his ‘son’s’ side until they both needed to change into dry, warm clothes for fear of catching a cold. Allen couldn’t find it in himself to even think of protesting and allowed himself to be babied by his father.

It was after this, when Francois had boiled Oliver a new cup of tea, that Mat came downstairs, his only reaction being a raised eyebrow upon spotting Allen. Allen’s red cheeks flushed even deeper and looked away. Mat just went to sit on the floor by his Papa’s feet.

Oliver, curled up against Francois’ warm side, took a scalding sip of his tea and sighed with a smile finally coming back to his weary features. 

“I’m glad you came back, Allen.” He murmured, voice still hoarse from the past two days’ events.

Allen shifted a bit, glad to have some feeling back in his hands. He had spent the better part of the day curled up beneath a large oak tree in the part down the street and was numb after an hour. It was honestly a miracle he was able to walk home.

“I’ve missed this.” Allen mumbled quietly, eyes glazed over slightly.

Francois frowned at how…terrible Allen looked. 

“We should take a look at your leg, Allen. I’m sure it could do with a change of bandages.”

Allen didn’t even think too mention that he had forgotten to wrap it initially. 

“You might need more than that.” He admitted quietly, hesitantly rolling up his pant leg.

‘You’re ruining the peace!’

Allen knew it, but didn’t want to lose his leg either. It was leaking yellow puss around the wound, still bleeding freely. The bullet had yet to be removed either, resulting in a swell of the skin at the foreign body inside of it. 

The moment Oliver looked at it, he almost spilt his tea, face creasing in concern. Hurriedly placing down his tea, the Brit rushed to stand, grabbing Allen's shoulders. 

"Come on!" He urged, eyes worried. "Into the kitchen! We can't do anything here!"

Oliver tugged Allen to his feet, trying to help him into the next room as quickly as possible. 

"Francois!" He called back, wanting the man with him. "You did medical training, didn't you? Come and help me!"

Francois sighed and rolled his eyes, though climbed to his feet and trundled after his lover with a grumbled, "That was for in the trenches, Oliver. Not in the twentieth century."

Unsure why he had to go anywhere, Allen stumbled off behind Oliver to the kitchen. The feeling was finally coming back to his legs, much to his annoyance.

‘Seriously!? Right now?!’ 

He was pushed into a kitchen chair that creaked with his every move and made his budding headache even worse. Francois reluctantly helped Oliver get the first aid kit from the kitchen.

“Oliver, you’re’ better at this modern stuff than I!” 

Oliver just waved his hands and mumbled, "Don't be such a dewdropper (lazy person)." 

When nervous or just very tired, Oliver tended to slip into old slang; most commonly from the 1920’s. Though no one ever really complained so he never felt the need to stop. Of course, sometimes people simply wouldn't understand what he meant, so he'd have to break the slang flashback and explain.

"Get the bandages and the antiseptic. Oh, and the tweezer thingies and a wet towel! Get a wiggle on (hurry up)!"

While ordering Francois about, Oliver busied himself with inspecting the wound, frowning slightly throughout.

Allen’s hands were clenched at his sides, eyes closed tightly to regulate his breathing. 

“Just…get the bullet out.” He breathed out in a tense tone. Of course, he knew that any one of them could handle it, but he felt that allowing Oliver to do it made up for their argument before. 

“Hush, dear.” Oliver’s fingers pressed carefully against the inflamed leg, trying to see how bad it was.

\---

Getting the bullet out turned into a fifteen minute process when it had been discovered to be lodged inside the muscle. Allen had to be given a rag to bite down on while his parents worked on his leg. Occasionally, Allen would see Mat handing the men something or saying something to him in a soothing tone, but he was honestly not paying any attention. 

“Wrap it up tightly.” Francois gently reminded Oliver when the bullet was finally wedged out of Allen’s leg and most of the puss drained away. It wasn’t the worst injury he had seen, not by a long shot, but it had needed attention to prevent the infection spreading. 

Oliver’s quick fingers did as he was told and soon Allen was laid down to rest on the couch. 

“Get some rest, poppet.” Oliver softly whispered with a fond smile, kissing Allen’s forehead as he had done so many times in the past. 

“G’night.” Allen was out like a light.


	7. Axis Arc: Chapter 7

Waking up the next morning was hard for Allen. Part of him just wanted to stay in bed and sleep away the day. He deserved it, right? 

‘Yesterday…. What happened yesterday?’

No matter how hard he thought, his sleepy mind couldn’t think of why he deserved the sleep he so desperately craved. Groaning in mild annoyance, Allen blinked his eyes open and nearly screamed when his first sight was that of Oliver. 

“Oliver! Y’nearly gave me a heart attack!” Allen whined tiredly, sitting up and rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. 

“Good morning to you too, dear! Up you go! Time to eat!”

Oliver’s smile was wide and cheery, his voice seemingly back to normal. In fact, the British man had been drinking herbal tea nearly every hour since waking up and it had done wonders for him. He would offer the same to Allen, but the American was a bigger fan of coffee than any brand of tea Oliver could offer. 

Allen groaned, but allowed himself to be helped to his feet and limped into the kitchen with Oliver hovering behind him like a mother hen. His leg still throbbed, though most of the swelling had gone down.

The smell of freshly cooked eggs, bacon and tofu wafted through the kitchen as Allen stepped inside. 

“It would smell better in here if pigs weren’t being fried.” Allen half-teased Mat at the stove, who rolled his eyes in return. 

“You sure that’s not the smell of you walking into my kitchen?” 

Oliver ushered Allen into one the chairs before either of the two men could start an actual argument. 

“Let’s see that legs of yours, hmm?” 

Another chair was pulled up opposite Allen so his leg could rest on it while Oliver looked over the injury. To keep his mind off of the pain, Allen turned his attention back to Mat.

“Papa’s still asleep?”

Mat nodded, placing a plate of eggs and tofu before Allen on a place mat already holding utensils and a mug of coffee. “Here. Eat up.”

No matter what the two North American nations called each other, they had always considered themselves siblings. It was hard not to when their histories were so tied together. Even when Oliver was locked away in an asylum or Francois was out getting drunk, they had always had each other to rely on. 

Half way through his eggs, Allen saw Oliver stand up again with a smile on his face. “It looks like your body is finally healing itself up! We do need to rewrap it, but it should be just fine in a few days.” 

With that said, Oliver hummed as he went to prepare himself his third cup of tea that morning.

Mat placed the three other plates of food, with bacon instead of tofu, down on the table while Allen nearly inhaled the rest of his eggs. “What?” He mumbled when he caught Mat’s amused look.

“Nothing.” Mat said innocently, turning to look out the window.

‘At least the rain stopped- Wait, what was that?’ The Canadian frowned and started off towards the front door. “I’ll be back later.” He called out before the sound of front door opening and closing met Allen’s ears. 

“Weird…” Allen shrugged in disinterest, knowing his brother could protect himself.

\---

Mat had made sure to grab his hockey stick when he left the house. Around this area, there were always poachers and hunters trying to kill off the animals. Mat always made sure to take care of them. This time though, the figure he had seen slipping through the woods looked less like a hunter and more like a civilian. No matter who it was, they were trespassing through his forest.

Tracking footsteps was much too easy, especially when the person wasn’t trying to hide themself very well. 

‘Where are you….?’

The trees opened up into a clearing, but Mat wasn’t about to go charging in like his brother’s idiotic counterpart. Instead, he hid behind some bushes near the edge with his stick laid out before him. The distinct sound of an Italian voice came through. He didn’t have to see to know the voice immediately. 

‘D*mn! I though they left! Didn’t they get what they wanted?! I have to get back to the house!’


	8. Axis Arc: Chapter 8

Nothing, other than the years of fighting and warfare they had already experienced, could have prepared them for this fight.

It was absolute chaos. Loud, panicky, horrific chaos. Combined with the weapons and half-insane nations carrying them, Oliver thought he was nearly going to wet himself. Nearly.

Though after all, the boisterous Brit was one of those crazed nations, wielding a knife he'd managed to snatch from the kitchen drawer just before he'd rushed after his furious lover. Francois could really be so protective at times...

Ah! He really shouldn't let his guard down like that! Oliver jumped from his thoughts when Luciano launched himself at him, a sickening grin twisting the Italian’s face upon successfully knocking Oliver's still-battered body to the ground. The Brit sucked in a sharp breath at the sticks and stones jabbing him, while also attempting to keep from being stabbed by Luciano's own knife.

But Oliver had his own tricks up his sleeve.  
In an instant, the smaller man had flipped their positions around and was pinning Luciano to the cold ground, letting out a triumphant laugh that sounded too hysterical for his own good.

‘Oliver!’ 

Francois wavered slightly in his own fight with Kuro, but was forced back to reality when he threw up the thick branch he had snatched when they ran out to the forest. His own usual weapon of choice was stashed upstairs at the current moment. 

‘I should have taken a second to grab it before we left the house!’

“Just give up already! You know you’re going to lose!” Francois snarled in irritation. They always lost! It was starting to get tiring to handle them all the time.

Of course, he was ignored by his enemy.

‘They are too stubborn!’

Mat was having his own problems at the other end of the clearing to Oliver. He'd originally chased after the Axis with Francois, not realizing who was accompanying the enemy at the time.

Gilen Beilschmidt.

Even saying his name made Mat's cheeks flush pink, yet chasing him and his brother into the woods to punish them for what they did to Oliver? That was new.

Of course, Gilen didn't do anything wrong. He wasn't even there - or so they assumed. It was just his little brother. Yet annoyingly, the mute Prussian wouldn't let Lutz get beaten up without joining the fight, so here Mat was, forced to attack the crush he wouldn't admit.

He'd tried to reason with Gilen at first, and tell him to stop because 'let's face it, I'm going to win', but Gilen was a stubborn, little sh*t who was damn good with his sword - literally and metaphorically.

Though Mat wouldn't hurt him too much, more defensive than offensive, and had only hit him once. That was probably due to his target being a fast f*cker.

With everyone else occupied, Allen was stuck fighting Lutz. 

‘Man, before this guy started following Luciano around like a puppy, he used to be cool! I mean, not exactly the best guy to hand around, but not bad for a night on the town or a good duel in the backyard…’ 

With Francois and Oliver as ‘parents’, Mat and Allen were exposed to a large variety of nations growing up. It wasn’t always on the best of terms given the amount of enemies they had over the years, but it had always been a learning experience for them either way.

“Allen!” 

Allen didn’t even have a chance to turn around to see who had called his name as the end of a sword, presumably Kuro’s own blade, suddenly pushed through the front of his shirt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for how short this is. My roleplay partner is out of the country and unable to assist me further with the fight scene.


	9. The message

**Hello, everyone! A short message from the writer (please read it all the way through!):**

  
I have been losing inspiration to continue turning my roleplay into a tangible story as Instagram has made it impossible to look back on past comments past eight weeks or so. I would not mind creating somewhat of a new universe based off of what I know, but I want to know if there is still a want for this story to continue!  
Please leave me a comment on this ‘chapter’ expressing your opinion so I know if I should continue.

 

Thank you!


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